Mustard on AZBlogX

(Vanishingly small linguistic interest.)

On AZBlogX, an entertaining photo (passed on by Michael Palmer on Facebook) of model Jordan Alexander (10/7/12) wielding a hotdog bun and mustard on what is either his dick or a hotdog held in his crotch (I have other photos of both scenarios). This has now been added to my Pages on phallicity posting (which now come divided into a subPage on wurst postings, for things like this, and a general subPage on the rest).

A model with the name Jordan Alexander is pretty much untraceable. It’s probably a stage name, and in any case the name leads to a great many men, even if you stick to African Americans..

The photographer (Hasson Harris) has chosen to shoot a variety of extravagant poses, of which the mustard-hotdog one is just the most outrageous (in my opinion). Harris is definitely extravagant on his own hook. From his blogspot posting:

The Reason Why Our Generation is so F**ked Up: The Bath Hass.

WHAT IS THE BATH HASS? You know that triangle you walk past when trying desperately to fit inside that box. Well that is THE BATH HASS..It has glitter walls and no ceiling to hold u in or stifle your reach. All that enter do because they want to, not because they feel they have to, there are no set rules or regulations, just misfit toys and liberations. That triangle, yupp that’s THE BATH HASS!

ABOUT ME Artistic expression seduces, addicts and perverts those that attain it..i am here to challenge myself as well as those that care take the vails off their eyes to take a peek at the chaos…

If you’re collecting Artist’s Statements, this would be an excellent addition. [And for lagniappe, there’s the little spelling error vails.]

[Added 6/26] On a different front: for some readers, this image calls up a bit of comic lore from the old Usenet newsgroup soc.motss. On Facebook, Aric Olnes supplies a link to the original text, on alt.lycra of 2/25/97, “GWM – They Tore My Bathing Suit! Help!” by Burgan30, which begins:

I had just recently purchased the greatest bathing suit I have ever owned. It was a fantastic shiny pale sky blue color, and the fabric was a very light-weight tight-weaved stretchy material. I was warned by the sales clerk that such a light material and color would become almost transparent in the water, but that didn’t bother me.

When I put the suit on, it fit perfectly. It was a very skimpy bikini 
that just barely covered my pubic hair in the front. The back came up,
 at a slight angle, from the outer bottom edge of my buttocks and curved
 over my hip to a very thin line where it connected to the front. The
 suit fit exquisitely tight, but because of the stretchiness of the
 material it firmly hugged my crotch making it almost pop out in plain 
view as the back gently caressed the crack of my buttocks. This suit
 left very little to the imagination. I had never owned such a perfect
 bathing suit and it complimented the tanned swimmer’s body that I had 
worked so hard on all summer, as well as my dark brown hair, mustache,
and my blue-green eyes. I am not normally so vain, but I did look hot
 and I couldn’t wait to wear it out in public at one of my favorite

So of course the vain are brought down. Eventually,

a group of three big strong heavy young jocks
 came up, looked me over and started laughing. They were in their early 
twenties and they all looked as if they played football and they were 
all ugly and they were all drunk. One of them said “Nice bathing suit,
man,” snickering as they got a little closer. Another said, “Would you
like some mustard on that hot dog, Sir?” and with a malicious grin on
his face, he grabbed the plastic mustard jar from the counter and
 approached me. I tried to leave, but one of them grabbed me with one big
hairy arm from behind, and pinned both my arms in back of me, preventing
 me from moving. To my utter horror, the one with the mustard jar started
 squirting the disgusting yellow ooze onto my crotch ruining my beautiful
 bathing suit forever.

In the end,

 each grabbed pieces of the stained and ruined, once beautiful shiny blue
 material and yanked my beautiful bathing suit into tiny little shreds
 and stuck them to my matted hair. My fabulous bathing suit was totally
 destroyed and I was buck naked on the beach with mustard, catsup, and
 chili all over my crotch and body and face and hair. They then let me
go, yelling, “We never want to see your faggotty ass around here again,” 
as I grabbed the first towel I could find and ran for the safety of my

Aric adds: What? No onions or coleslaw? “Make sure next time you ask for onions and coleslaw. A hot dog experience is not as good without ’em. Lady Pen, Cult of Tracker”.]



5 Responses to “Mustard on AZBlogX”

  1. Robert Says:

    I may have developed one of those conditions Oliver Sacks writes about, causing written things to be read as complete gibberish. With respect to this artist’s statement, should I see a neurologist?

  2. thnidu Says:

    What *is* a bath hass, if there is such a thing?

  3. Brian MacIntyre Says:

    I’m thinking ‘Hass’ refers to the photographer’s first name (Hassan) and forms a play on words: “Bath Hass” = “Bathhouse”. Probably an oblique reference to gay culture, along with the (presumably pink) triangle, glitter, “no set rules” and liberation. Not to mention the drugs the artist clearly was on when he wrote that. Happy Pride.

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